


Declared Dead - One Week

by peskylilcritter



Series: Declared Dead [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breastfeeding, Children, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peskylilcritter/pseuds/peskylilcritter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the entire first day he ignores the child. He isn’t ready to deal with that yet.</p><p>Instead, he finds himself caught up in how much Wendy has changed this past year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declared Dead - One Week

For the entire first day he ignores the child. He isn’t ready to deal with that yet.

Instead, he finds himself caught up in how much Wendy has changed this past year. The lack of glasses is easy enough to get used to; he’s seen her without them before.

The hair, almost as short as his now, is more difficult. His last clear memory of her is of the last night they spent alone together, before the hallucinations started. Her hair was free then; long long hair spread out beneath her, spilling over her shoulders, tangled round his fingers.

(She was already pregnant then, he thinks, and buries the thought quickly. Later.)

Her breasts are larger, he realizes as he watches her take off her jacket, which is still the one with the uncounted pockets.

(Milk. She’s breastfeeding, he thinks, and ruthlessly buries this thought, too.)

Her name, too, is different. Jane Wendell. She made it out of the one her parents gave her. Jansen into Jane, Wendy into Wendell. Pretty clever, in his opinion.

(He wonders, involuntarily, what the kid’s last name is, before he squashes that thought like the others.)

The last difference is more an absence than a change, and he doesn’t even notice until evening, when the baby is asleep (don’t think about it, don’t fucking think) and they’re sitting at the tiny table in the tiny kitchen, eating some kind of rice dish. He hasn’t seen her smoke all day.

(He already knows when she stopped, but for the first time, he manages to catch the thought before it can fully form.)

He doesn’t dream that night, for which he’d be decidedly grateful, if the cause wasn’t an inability to sleep that has nothing to do with the baby waking up in the middle of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this one before some of the stuff that happens earlier, chronolgically. I'm very happy with it, very proud.
> 
> Unfortunately, this pretty much the last finished fic I have for this verse, and this close to NaNoWriMo (which I am participating in for the first time) I'm not sure if i'll manage to write anything more.


End file.
